


You know I'm one for the overly passionate

by holyfudgemonkeys (erraticallyinspired)



Series: Gobmas 2020 [5]
Category: Numb3rs (TV), Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Age Difference, Bottom Malcolm Bright, Breeding, Cabins, Daddy Kink, Domestic Fluff, Established Gil Arroyo/Malcolm Bright/Ian Edgerton, Established Relationship, Family Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Husbands, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mountains, Mpreg, Multi, Older Man/Younger Man, Post Mpreg, Riding, Rough Sex, Sloppy Seconds, Threesome - M/M/M, Top Gil Arroyo, Top Ian Edgerton, Vacation, Voyeurism, cooking together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:09:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27993537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erraticallyinspired/pseuds/holyfudgemonkeys
Summary: Malcolm, Ian, and Gil go to a cabin in the mountains for their anniversary.(A slice of life before and after Robin is put to bed.)---(Part 3 of the "I'll be in the middle" series and should be read as such. This won't make sense if you haven't read the previous two fics.)
Relationships: Gil Arroyo/Malcolm Bright, Gil Arroyo/Malcolm Bright/Ian Edgerton, Malcolm Bright/Ian Edgerton
Series: Gobmas 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2037802
Comments: 14
Kudos: 18





	You know I'm one for the overly passionate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ToriCeratops](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToriCeratops/gifts).



> Tori!!!! I've had this fic plotted for _months_ but never got around to it, and ya know what? Gobmas is the perfect time to finally get it to you. I hope you enjoy another piece of this series! I love youuuu ;) <3<3<3<3<3<3<3
> 
> (Title, once again, comes from the song "I'll be in the middle" by Dodie)

Robin looks more and more like her fathers every single day. Her coloring and her smile especially, though her eyes are still the same vibrant blue as his own. 

Malcolm stops where he is, toes curling in the muddy sand of the lake edge, mostly clear water up to his ankles, and watches her as she toddles ahead in nothing but her diaper and floaties, one tiny, chubby hand dwarfed by Gil’s. Her hair is up in clumsy pigtails. Although they weren’t that clumsy when Ian did them that morning, it’s unsurprising to see them now. They’ve all grown used to her running around, getting dirty, and causing havoc. His mother insists neither he nor Ainsley were ever so rambunctious, but Gil and Ian agree Robin gets it from him. She just developed her chaotic side early.

She’s so happy today, so excited. Her little feet stomp around in the calm water, splashing it up her tanned legs to catch the edges of her swim diaper. Beside her, Gil, with his pants rolled up to mid-calf and still getting soaked at the cuffs, is grinning the same grin right back at her, eyes crinkling and a delighted laugh slipping out now and then. 

His heart swells at the sight.

“Don’t worry,” Ian says as he tucks his phone back into the pocket of Malcolm’s linen pants. He’s mostly dry now, though his hair is still slicked back and sending rivulets of lake water down the back of his neck after his late afternoon swim. He wraps an arm around a slim waist. “I took plenty of pictures.”

Malcolm leans into him and smiles, uncaring of how the dampness of his husband’s body bleeds into his clothes. 

This is his family. God, it’s been almost a year to the day since they stood up in front of their family and friends to pledge their commitment to each other, a year and a half since their little bird was born, and he’s _still_ in awe of what he has. It’s everything he never thought he would, not after his father’s arrest. 

(Not after he fled from Quantico, from Ian, with nothing but a bunch of boxes, Sunshine, and the lingering despair of the breakup he left over voicemail.)

“More for the grandparents to coo over,” he says. Malcolm’s sure Ian’s already sent a few off to the Edgertons and his mother and sister. Not that he, Ian, and Gil won’t do the same. They both know the three of them will pour over each one for a sizable amount of time later once she’s asleep. It’s all too easy with their daughter. She is, in all of their opinions, the cutest toddler they’ve ever seen — and that’s saying something, considering some of the adorable nieces and nephews Malcolm has now, courtesy of Ian. No matter how many tantrums she has, how picky she can be with her foods, how messy she gets, Robin is still the most precious part of their lives. Malcolm himself has shed so many tears over her, nearly pulled out his hair a few times. 

She’ll always be his little bird. 

Ian kisses him, tearing his gaze away from the rest of their small family for a moment. “Let’s go make dinner, rich boy.” He chuckles and grins over at Gil carefully steadying their daughter as she crouches down and digs in the sand. “ _Before_ the kitchen gets crowded.”

The last time all four of them were in the kitchen, it was a disaster. Malcolm ducks his head and laughs.

Which catches Gil’s attention. He gives them a questioning look, smile still curling at his lips. 

Malcolm gestures over at the cabin further inland with his thumb and gets a nod in return. 

The spot they’ve chosen for their anniversary is gorgeous. Unsurprisingly — considering his mother is footing the bill for this vacation as a treat — the cabin is spacious. Well furnished and warm with a large working fireplace, a full kitchen, and so much space between residences that they’ve pretty much got this side of the lake to themselves. Robin’s room is bigger than she needs at a year and a half old. The main bedroom has a bed wide enough for Malcolm and both of his husbands, something none of them had to request. 

The best part by far is the world around them. The lake is vast and beautiful, clear and clean. There’s the occasional bear out and about, but there are strict rules on trash, and Ian’s spent more than enough time in woods all over the country to know how to avoid dangerous encounters. He knows enough about living in the mountains, too.

And there _are_ mountains. The cabin is nestled right in the valley, cradled by earth on each side, some of it good for hiking and some of it better for appreciating from a distance. Ian has already spent a few hours plotting out walks and sketching the landscape. If Robin is up for it, they’ll be following one of those paths tomorrow, all four of them with backpacks full of water and snacks.

Dinner today is nearly as easy to prep and eat. Ian mixed up the filling for the lumpia the night before, and Malcolm and Gil spent the morning rolling it up tight in the wrappers as they sipped their coffee, the sounds of Ian teaching Robin bird calls out on the porch drifting through the window. Malcolm pulls out the tub of uncooked rolls and hands it over. 

Taking the tub, Ian leans in for a quick kiss. 

A kiss that starts quick and ends up shifting into something slow and heated before Malcolm reluctantly pulls away to grab the other container from the fridge. The food in this one is even easier to fry up, seeing as it’s technically already cooked. Ian mixed up the pork filling for kikiam when he prepared the lumpia, but instead of letting it sit in the fridge, the flavors melding together, he wrapped it up in sheets of bean curd while Malcolm and Gil were busy trying to get Robin to sleep. He steamed them, too, and the smell of seasoned meat filled the cabin for _hours_. 

Now, all he has to do is fry them up. Ian puts two pans on the stove and adds a good few inches of oil to each. 

Malcolm pulls out four plates. One of them is small, plastic, and brightly colored, because it’s difficult getting Robin to eat off anything else. It’s all he has to do, actually. He already set up the rice cooker before they went out to the lake, so the rice is cooked and warm, just waiting to be dished out when everything else is ready. He hops up on the counter to watch Ian work the pans — something his husband is still wary about letting him do, at least when so much hot oil is involved.

Soon enough, the room is heavy with the scent of spiced pork and the crisp, light shell of the lumpia. It’s rich, heavenly, familiar. 

“Daddy,” Robin screeches as she barrels into the kitchen, Gil hot on her heels. He swoops her up just before she reaches Ian and the stove. “Food!”

Gil settles her on his hip. “Why don’t we get changed first?”

She pouts the whole way out of the room, and Malcolm laughs brightly, still in awe of his lot in life. 

“I think he has the right idea,” Ian says, lips twitching. He removes the last batch of lumpia from the pan. All of the food has been fried up and sits on two platters, resting and steaming hot yet. Cupping Malcolm’s jaw, he pulls him in for one last, lingering kiss before heading out to get into less damp clothes. 

Malcolm slides off the counter and dishes up the rice. Two of the big plates get a heaping mound of it. The remaining one and the plastic one both get substantially smaller portions. He puts a few lumpia on each, too, sticking his stinging fingers in his mouth afterwards, too impatient to grab tongs or wait for them to cool. He slices up the kikiam next and divides it up between the four plates. 

Which is about the time that the rest of his family ambles in in dry clothes. Gil hands him their daughter, and the three men sit down, Malcolm with Robin in his lap, for dinner. 

The best thing about a day out on the lake is that Robin is dead tired. She barely has the energy to splash about in the tub after dinner. Gil doesn’t even have to struggle to get her into her footie pajamas, and the hardest part of it all is carrying her and maneuvering around her room while she’s asleep, a heavy weight in his arms. She burrows under her blanket as soon as he tucks it up around her. 

He shuts the door as quietly as he can. He pads down the hall to the main bedroom. Heat pools in his groin at the sight of _that_ door closed as well. He slips inside. 

Malcolm is on the bed. Bare. Three fingers deep in his ass, his cock drooling on his stomach, his other hand gripping desperately at the sheets. His gaze is trained across the room until Gil steps in, and the shaky smirk that spreads across his face is more than enough to make Gil let out a low whistle. 

From his place in the chair in the corner of the room, Ian chuckles. He’s still dressed in a light tank top and sweatpants. The bulge there isn’t small, but he’s always had the most restraint out of all of them. “Our boy’s been watching you all day,” he drawls. “Figured I’d get him all worked up and ready for his Daddy.”

Gil felt the eyes on him. It’s not unusual, really, and both he and Ian have long since clued in on the fact that Malcolm _very_ much loves seeing them as parents. 

Which is also why Malcolm is no longer on birth control. They all sat down and had a talk about it a few weeks before heading out to the cabin, and ever since, he stopped taking it. 

Gil can’t _wait_ to see him round out with their baby again. “Is he right?” He says despite knowing the answer. “Are you that desperate for my cock, kid?”

Malcolm groans, fingers buried up to his knuckles. “Always. Fuck me, Daddy.” 

That’s more than enough. Gil sheds his pajama pants and boxers without fanfare and gets into bed. “I want you to ride me tonight.” He takes in all of him, especially the way Malcolm bites his lip as he shudders at the thought. He shifts to lay flat on his back. “That’s it, kid, come get what you’re aching for.” His cock is thick, waiting.

“Grab the lube,” Ian orders. He hasn’t moved much at all. “Get him nice and wet.”

“Yes, Sir.” Malcolm drizzles it over Gil’s length and wraps his hand around him, jerking him twice to spread it around. “Can I?”

Ian catches Gil’s eye and smirks. “Can you what, rich boy?”

Malcolm swallows. “Can I fuck myself on Daddy’s cock now, Sir?”

“Go ahead.”

Gil puts his hands behind his head as he watches Malcolm swing a leg over him and hold his cock steady. His body wants to buck up into that grip, but he knows what’s coming will be infinitely better. He absolutely loves being balls deep in his husband, and the knowledge that every single time it happens could be the time they conceive their second makes it even sweeter. “Can’t wait to feel you,” he murmurs. 

Malcolm’s head rolls back as the tip slips in. The long line of his throat is right there on display, fading love bites clustered around the base of it. 

Something should be done about that — after Gil’s done filling him up. 

“You can take him,” Ian says idly. His hands rest on his knees. 

Malcolm sinks down until he’s flush against Gil. He splays his hands out on the chest beneath him. “Fast? Slow?”

They often don’t have much time, not with a toddler, but she shouldn’t be stirring anytime soon. “Slow, to start,” Gil says.

Ian hums. “You heard him.”

For the first few thrusts, Malcolm’s hands stay right where they are. The angle should be perfect for Ian to watch the way he’s filled over and over again. He rocks his hips, letting Gil’s length slip out of him most of the way before slotting right back into place. Slow. Steady. Patient. 

But Malcolm isn’t a particularly patient man. He bites the inside of his cheek as his rhythm starts to falter. 

Gil moves one of his arms and rests a hand over Malcolm’s. “Pick it up, kid,” he says gruffly and, to punctuate his point, he bucks up into that warm, slick heat. “Fuck, you look gorgeous like this.”

Malcolm abides with a breathy moan. He squeezes his husband’s hand once and then pushes off his chest, straightening his spine, then arching it, letting his neck roll back with each drag and take. His cock is much easier to see in this position. It bobs with each rock, precome dripping down the side. 

“Touch yourself,” Ian orders. “Hands on your chest.”

“Yes, Sir,” Malcolm says slyly, looking over his shoulder at his other husband as he cups his pecs. He rolls his nipples between his thumbs and pointer fingers. His eyes slip shut, and his teeth sink into his lower lip. It’s hard not to think about the handful of times they’ve fucked him together, both of their cocks thick inside him, one of them behind him with their hands on his chest and their mouth on his neck. 

Gil curses as the heat around him gets impossibly tighter. 

There’s barely any sound when Ian finally gets to his feet. He stands at the bedside, one hand cupping his bulge loosely. “Take him over, rich boy.”

Gil can’t help but grip Malcolm’s hips now.“Can’t wait until you’re heavy with our kid again.” He grits his teeth as his husband snaps his hips faster and faster, riding him with stuttered moans and breathy gasps. His orgasm hits him just as hard as he expected it would. His legs jerk, knees rising. His fingers dig bruises into pale skin. He cock pulses and spurts.

“God, yes,” Malcolm groans. He hasn’t come yet, but he’s leaking steadily, his chest heaving with each and every breath. He sits there for what feels like forever letting Gil fill him up. 

But Ian is waiting. He coaxes Malcolm off of Gil to flop on his back next to him. “Ready for another round?” His hand is warm and gentle and patient on Malcolm’s thigh. 

“For you?” Malcolm gives him a dopey smile. “Always.” 

Ian wastes no time in hitching up his legs and slotting between them. He tugs his cock out over the waistband of his sweats. 

Malcolm sighs, his own cock throbbing, as he’s filled for the second time that night. He loves the weight of either of his husbands in him. 

Ian readjusts his grip. Snaps his hips hard enough to clap. There’s barely any resistance with Gil’s come still slicking the way. He fucks hard and fast and oh so consistent, and his pace has Malcolm arching back into the bed. “That’s it,” he says, ever so slightly strained. Seed froths up between them with the force of his thrusts. “Come for me.”

Clenching down, it takes barely a brush of his fingers against himself for Malcolm to gasp, his body trembling with the force of his orgasm. His shout is lost into Gil’s mouth. 

Ian fucks him through it, chasing his own release. “Gorgeous,” he bites out. As he rockets over the edge, he covers Malcolm, stealing his lips as soon as he and Gil part, their teeth clashing while Ian breeds him up. 

The smell of pancakes rouses their little wild child, who bounces up with all the energy in the world. A yawning Malcolm hitches her up on his hip and kisses the crown of her head. 

In the kitchen, Ian is humming and flipping perfect pancake after perfect pancake, the griddle ensuring a good even golden brown. Gil is pouring orange juice. The table is already set. 

Malcolm takes a seat with their squirming toddler in his lap and takes the plate of pancakes already cut up into bite-sized pieces from Gil with a kiss. He hands her piece by piece and smiles at her excited babbling.

(He can’t wait until they have another.)


End file.
